Life and Liberty
by CaramelVamp
Summary: Post DH. How will Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione develop as, for the first time in their lives, they have a chance to live as normal teenagers?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If I was making money off of this, do you really think I'd be here? 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite the young woman's bravest attempts to remain asleep, the sun stubbornly streamed forth, turning the insides of her eyelids the same violent shade of orange as her hair. She groaned and hid her face in the pillow, but it was futile. Once awake, Ginevra Weasley rarely got back to sleep. It was a side effect, she supposed, of having grown up in a house where she had to claw her way through six voracious boys just to get breakfast. Quite literally, if you had snoozed, you had lost.

Still, as she caught a quick glimpse of the clock before snuggling mutinously beneath the blankets once more, Ginny couldn't help but find it unfair that she couldn't have at least a little bit of a lie-in after all that they'd all been through. Not even a month ago Harry had defeated You-Know-Who (Voldemort, she reminded herself firmly), and her whole family had spent most of the time since helping with repairs to the castle, grieving the fallen, and going through all of the other nasty motions of putting things to rights after the Final Battle. She was emotionally and physically exhausted, and only kept going due to the knowledge that those around her were, too. After all, Gryffindors didn't shirk their duty just because of petty things like fatigue.

But it was so warm and comfortable in her bed, underneath the layers and layers of mismatched comforters and throws, that she couldn't seem to get the motivation to move. In spite of the July heat, the blankets gave her comfort, just like the familiar sound of her mother bustling around with pots and pans below her and Arnold's squeaky snores from down by her feet. Soon the choice of whether or not to get up would be forcibly removed as either her mother or brothers, or perhaps even Harry or Hermione, would inevitably come barging into her room for something or other. Until then, though, maybe she'd just lie there. Arnold certainly didn't care if she wanted to laze about with her hair splayed all around her head and her mismatched toe-socks peeping out from under the quilt, and if anyone else cared...

Without finishing the thought, she was back asleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry couldn't help but smile a bit, watching her slumber from the doorway. Usually she was up long before him, and it was almost midmorning when Molly had finally sent him to awaken her for breakfast. He took advantage of the moment to watch her, though. In sleep, she was beautiful in an entirely different way from when she was awake. Normally she was quick-tempered, lively, active... an all-around spitfire. Her level of passion for everything was one of the things that drew him to her - she was a far cry from the meek girls who had nothing better to worry about than the state of their lipgloss and trying to seduce a "hero." Now, though, with all of her barriers lowered, he thought her more lovely than ever. Her vulnerability raised a protective streak in him that, before his sixth year, he had thought was fraternal. Now he recognized it as something far deeper.

He made his way over to her bed and sat lightly on the edge, giving a silent laugh at the mountain of blankets she covered herself with despite it being one of the hottest times of the year. Gently pushing her hair back from her face, he whispered, "Hey, Gin, time to get up."

A sleepy noise escaped her lips and she squirmed slightly, before rolling to face the wall and stilling again. Harry smirked good-naturedly, unsure if she was really that deeply asleep, or just being coy. Either way, he could play along. Scooting a little closer, he put one large hand on her shoulder and squeezed firmly, running his thumb in teasing circles along her upper arm. "Gin," he said a little bit louder, drawing out the syllable. When she continued to ignore him, though he was sure she was awake now, he coughed and turned to an imaginary presence in the doorway. "Nah, I don't think she's breathing, Ron, we better do CPR..."

Like a bolt she was out of bed, shoving him roughly in the process so that he stumbled with a laugh right back onto the spot she'd just vacated. Her hands-on-hips pose and fiery expression when she realized that Ron was nowhere to be seen caused him to chuckle even harder until tears streamed down his face, and he struggled vainly to get up amid the blankets that had somehow entangled him with record speed. Still laughing, he let himself collapse back, careful to avoid Arnold, and stared at her ceiling futilely, holding his hands up in mock surrender at the look on her face. "Okay, okay," he gasped in between bursts of laughter, "I give up. Go back to bed."

Her hands didn't move from her hips, but the corners of her lips began to quirk tellingly, and Harry grinned unabashedly. Had he thought she was gorgeous when she was asleep? A small red camisole made a moderate v-neck before clinging tantalizingly to her waist and flared hips, while the position of her arms emphasized toned muscles undoubtedly gained from tossing around a Quaffle. Beneath the camisole barely an inch of creamy skin showed above a plain pair of shorts, rolled down at the top to fit her. From there, legs as toned as her arms led down to a mismatched pair of toe socks pulled up nearly to her knees- one showing golden snitches and the other a wizarding cartoon character with which Harry was unfamiliar. Leave it to Ginny, he mused wryly - the once thing she wasn't was boring. Looking back up, her hair framed her face with an ethereal glow in the sunlight streaming through the window, and she was now smiling fully at him, her expression a bit softer.

"Harry Potter," she muttered mockingly, rolling her eyes. "What are we gonna do with you?"

He could make some suggestions, he thought with an even wider grin. But it was better not to push his luck. After all, he had dumped her last year to go off in search of Voldemort. And while that war was over, he had yet to ask her out again, between her brother dying and all of them cleaning up the mess of the wizarding world in general. With a bashful look, he offered cheerfully, "Get me free of this mess so we can both go eat breakfast?"

With a nod, she started untangling the blankets, placing a resentful-looking Arnold on the floor. "Leave it to the Boy-Who-Lived," she teased, "To fight the most evil wizard alive only to be strangled to death by a quilt. There," she offered him a hand, which he took and stood up, though not placing any real weight on her. "Let me grab my dressing gown and I'll be right down."

Taking that as his obvious dismissal to let her freshen up in private, he retreated into the hallway with a mock bow. Ah, the simple pleasures of life... another of which was the smell of Molly's cooking wafting from below. Resolving to see Ginny in a minute, he headed downstairs.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Okay, so a bit of a fluffy (and short) beginning, but I swear it will develop a plot soon and not be all romance. So please review and let me know what you think! Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still don't own it….

A/N: Thanks to the reviewers on my first chapter! Oh, and a note to the people who asked who the hell this Arnold was who was sleeping with Ginny (lol), he's her pet pygmy puff, basically a purple ball of fluff that was mentioned in Book 6. Here's Chapter 2 – enjoy!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry was only halfway down the stairs when screaming erupted. Long-honed instincts left over from the war screamed "Death Eaters!" at his consciousness, but before he could grab his wand, he registered that it was just Ron and Hermione in another one of their infamous yelling matches. Within a moment the wails of Teddy Lupin joined the cacophony, and Ginny came barreling out of her room in her dressing gown with a look of alarm on her face. Rolling his eyes at her, Harry motioned to the kitchen and mouthed wordlessly, "Ron."

She broke out into silent giggles, nodding, and followed him cautiously down the rest of the stairs. In the entrance to the kitchen two figures could be seen, standing nose to nose, the larger person's face flushed bright red and the other's obscured by a bushy mass of hair. Beyond them a harried-looking Molly was trying desperately to calm a screaming, blue-haired baby boy while glaring at the arguers. They must have been especially angry, Harry noted, for one of them had lost a bit of control on their magic and was causing all of the kitchen's silverware to vibrate menacingly. If he hadn't walked in on them snogging more times than he cared to admit, Harry would have sworn that they were the same bickering children who had loathed each other in first year.

"I am so SICK of your childishness, Ron Weasely!" screeched Hermione irately, as though reading Harry's thoughts. "Treating me as if I were your bloody servant, always Hermione do this, Hermione do that-"

"Oh, Yeah?! That's rich, coming from YOU!" he bellowed, then raised his voice an octave and mimicked in a girlish tone, "Ronald, when ARE you going to start studying for your NEWTS?! Ronald, chew with your mouth closed! Ronald, it's leviOsa, not levisosA!"

"How DARE you?!" Hermione squealed back irately. "Who would've failed out of Hogwarts if I hadn't been proofing his homework for the last seven years?! Who DID fail his apparation test?! Who have I pulled out of trouble TIME and time AGAIN because he was too thick-headed to even BEGIN to think for himself?!"

"Oh I see it, high and mighty Hermione, too good for us mere mortals," Ron sneered. "I get straight O's, I kiss up to professors," he mocked. "I date professional Quidditch players!"

"LEAVE VIKTOR OUT OF THIS!" she yelled. "Aren't you a little old to be obsessed with someone I dated in fourth year?! I don't recall being the one who bought his figurine, or asked him for his autograph! Or maybe you're just jealous 'cause he IS a better Quidditch player than you and got to me FIRST! It couldn't be THAT, could it?!" she asked sarcastically.

"So you DO still like him!" Ron crowed accusingly.

"No! I-" Hermione sputtered, opening her mouth for a retort, but before it could sink any lower, Ginny stormed into the room and screeched at a volume to rival either of theirs, "THAT! IS! ENOUGH!"

As though they'd been slapped, the whole room fell silent. Even Teddy Lupin seemed to know better than to mess with an angry Ginny. Hands on her hips and eyes flashing, she ranted, "My God, do you two ever shut UP?! You'd think that godawful portrait from Grimmauld Place had been brought over here from the racket you're making! Did it ever occur to you that SOME of us were upstairs trying to SLEEP?!"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Perhaps it was the early hour, or maybe it was just typical sibling rivalry. One way or another, Ginny had gone from enjoying a nice, relaxing morning (complete with Harry-flirting) to seeing red over her brother's unyielding childishness. It didn't help that Hermione was one of her best friends, nor that she'd spent her entire adolescent life stewing in jealousy of the "Golden Trio" while watching them have their adventures as a relative outsider. Ron and Hermione had had every chance to be together, and had squandered it until a mere month or so ago, while she, Ginny, had had to sacrifice the only boy she really cared about while he ran off to fight a megalomaniac. Somehow, it just wasn't fair that Ron and Hermione shouldn't appreciate each other, whether it was really Ginny's business or not.

As usual, keeping her mouth shut was not one of the redhead's strong points, nor was her patience. Before she knew it, she had stormed into the room, first screaming for a halt, and then ranting at the top of her lungs about irritating prats of brothers, people with the indecency to shout over nothingness at ungodly hours of the morning, and life in general. After a point her mouth and angrily gesturing hands were on autopilot, simply venting her ongoing frustration while she absently noted Harry and her mother's identically bemused expressions, or the baby's slightly awed one. "And have to listen to your incessant bickering like a pair of SIBLINGS," she continued to rant, "as if I didn't have enough of that crap around here, and on top of it-"

"LANGUAGE, GINEVRA!"

"BUT-!"

"NO 'BUTS' YOUNG LADY! YOU WILL BE SILENT THIS INSTANT!"

Ron snickered, and Molly rounded furiously on him. "And YOU, Ronald Bilius Weasley! To pick a fight with Hermione here in our own home! I won't have it, young man!"

"Me?!" protested Ron, the redness of his cheeks spreading slowly to his ears. "SHE'S the one who-"

"SHE is a guest! Now you WILL apologize to Hermione, NOW!"

Even with a baby on her hip and brandishing a spatula rather than a wand, Molly was an intimidating sight. Ginny supposed that she had learned her quick temper from her mother; after all, neither woman could live in a house with seven men without learning to stand up for herself. Ron finally had the grace to look cowed, slouched with his hands in his pockets and studying his shoes intently. A moment passed devoid of sound except for Ron scuffing his trainer on the linoleum before Molly cleared her throat imperiously. "Sorry, Hermione," he admitted grudgingly, with a violent flinch. It was all that Ginny could do not to smirk - her brother was whipped.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Once again, please review! It'll be back to Harry/Ginny next chapter, I promise- I actually hate writing Ron and Hermione, even though Hermione's probably the character to whom I would relate best in real life. Mostly this story is going to develop from Ginny's POV. So stay tuned!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: You guys are great! Thank you to benperez31, Gisele Weasley, Rainless Night, jensenfreak, Lea Marie, lovesreading2, and Risika Tellerman for the reviews on my first two chapters! Without trying to be coy, I'm frankly shocked (and exceedingly pleased) at the amount of positive feedback! Stay tuned!

---------------------------------------------------------------------

A highly relieved Chosen One trudged up the stairs after a tension-filled breakfast, his right hand clenched around a couple of envelopes as though they were a lifeline out of the middle of the schizophrenic and often passive-aggressive relationship shared by his two best friends. If anybody else had been quite so incessantly annoying, he very well might have strangled them. As it were, though, Ron and Hermione had been through a lot with him, and he had gotten slightly better at controlling his temper since the end of the war.

That was one thing that he and Ginny didn't have in common, Harry thought with a grin. She was still a spitfire, and he wouldn't want her any other way. Even if it had exasperated the situation a bit, watching her tell off Ron and Hermione had been highly amusing.

He let his thoughts wander as he made his way into his room, tossed the envelopes on the bed, and absently dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a Chudley Cannons t-shirt (courtesy of Ron). Now that the war was over, there was really nothing stopping him from asking Ginny out again… well, except for her five remaining older brothers and Harry's own sense of guilt over dumping her before. It was a strange concept that for the first time since entering the wizarding world, Harry was free to live his own life without worrying about some psychopath showing up to kill anyone about whom he dared to care. Morbid though it was, the thought brought a smirk to his face. The "Chosen One" was a past lifetime - Harry Potter was completely ready to revel in his newfound freedom.

Mind made up about that issue, he ran a brush through his hair (an exercise in futility, as always) before peering at himself in the mirror for a moment. Since Voldemort's demise, the lightning-shaped scar that had plagued him all his life was slowly but surely fading. It hadn't so much as twinged since the Final Battle, and was now little more than a pink line on his forehead, as opposed to the angry red gash of before. He supposed that that was a sort of poetic metaphor for being done with the war. Undoubtedly, a god somewhere was smirking at his own cleverness.

Rolling a pair of green eyes at his own reflection, Harry turned back to the bed and his mail. Three letters graced him with their presence, and he ripped open the first, sporting a return address of just down the road. He quickly skimmed its contents.

_Dear Harry,_

How are you? Father and I are doing well, and making excellent progress on our research of the Trumpeting Gagglesnark. Until now it was proving rather elusive, as it only likes to come out for a heartbroken mermaid on Christmas Eve. Just last week, though, we discovered its tracks after leaving out an offering of Gillyweed. We're very hopeful that soon we'll catch an actual glimpse!

Harry grinned at the note, which continued on in a similar fashion for several more paragraphs. Luna may have been eccentric, but she had understood Harry and stood by him during some of his darkest times. He was thrilled that his friend was enjoying herself now that the war was over, however different her idea of a good time might have been from his own. Smiling, he read the last few sentences.

I'll be returning to Hogwarts for my final year this fall. I don't suppose that you, Ronald, and Hermione will be back after skipping last year? Let me know when I can see all of you!

_Love,_

_Luna_

His grin turned into a slightly puzzled look. Honestly, he hadn't even considered returning to Hogwarts after having left. He could only hope that the thought hadn't occurred to Hermione, either – she would almost certainly insist that they go back and sit for their N.E.W.T.s, which Harry had no desire to do. But then again, maybe Hermione had matured more than that. Infantile though her relationship with Ron might remain, she had been a resourceful companion during their time hiding out, never pestering or nagging him, as she had been so wont to do during their school years.

Shrugging the thought off and promising to write back to Luna later, he turned to the next envelope. This one bore an official-looking seal, which, upon closer inspection, proved to be the insignia for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry. Harry's heart thumped a little faster. He didn't think that he'd done anything illegal lately, but the eradication of the Death Eaters didn't mean that there still weren't sleazy bureaucrats who had it in for anyone who took the spotlight off of themselves.

With a groan, he slit the envelope open with his wand, unfolding the crisp parchment and scanning quickly back and forth over the words written there. It took him two or three passes over before the message began to sink in.

He burst into a face-splitting grin and, letting out a loud whoop of triumph, bounced out of the room and nearly crashed into an equally ecstatic-looking Ron.

"Did you get-" started Ron boisterously.

"You too?!" exclaimed Harry.

"Can you believe it, mate?!"

The two best friends exchanged an enthusiastic high five before chanting together, "Aurors!" They whooped some more and high-fived again, grabbing each other in a rough "man-hug" before swapping letters, laughing in triumph.

A bushy-brown-haired-head stuck out of a doorway irritably. "What are you screaming about now?" snapped Hermione with a glare.

Neither boy was about to have their good mood ruined. "We got offered spots in the auror department!" Harry exclaimed triumphantly. He waved his letter in her face.

"Really?!" squealed Ginny from down the hall. "That's great you guys!" Bounding over, she leapt on Harry in a bone-crushing hug, letting him spin her around excitedly before leaping on Ron in turn. The three broke out into an awkward little victory jig, laughing uproariously.

Looking mollified, Hermione emerged from her room and gave them each a hug as well, albeit more gently, prompting them to calm down. "Congratulations, guys," she offered with a smile.

"Is it official? When do you start? What's gonna happen?" chirped Ginny in rapid-fire interrogation.

Harry grinned back at the beautiful girl before turning back to his letter. "Next week," he answered with a thoughtful look. "This is gonna be awesome, guys!"

The excitement was contagious, and pretty soon the entire house had broken out into an impromptu celebration… and Harry had forgotten completely about his third letter.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Dun dun dun! Cliffie- oh no! Keep the reviews coming, guys! Love ya!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you to lovesreading2, JessFantasy16, Rainless Night, ahrocks08, and writingqueen13 for the terrific reviews on chapter 3! For all you people who are subscribed to my story but haven't reviewed – I'd love to hear from you! Praise is great but constructive criticism is always welcome as well. Well here you go- the next chapter. Sorry for the long wait - in addition to classes, the psych lab, and both jobs and political campaigning, I was fortunate enough to get sick. Lucky me. :s

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So I'm thinking I'm gonna get my own place," ventured Harry.

He, Hermione, Fleur, and all of the Weasleys were sitting around the Burrow's cramped kitchen table enjoying some butterbeers and a monstrous plate of cookies, courtesy of Molly. Most of the day had been given over to celebrating his and Ron's acceptance into the Auror Corps, and now, after an impromptu feast, things were just starting to settle down. Harry had a feeling, though, that his latest proclamation was likely to cause another stir of chaos.

Instead, it just garnered stares – some blank, others inquisitive. Arthur broke the silence first. "Well, Harry," he started calmly, pausing to wipe his mouth carefully with a napkin and setting it back on the table slowly. "You know you're always welcome here, but if you want to move out, I suppose you're certainly entitled."

"It's nothing personal," assured Harry quickly, mostly to placate Molly. "I really appreciate everything you've all done for me for all these years. Just, with the war and all, I'd like to start out on my own two feet."

Molly finally found her voice, her motherly tone worried. "But Harry," she protested, reminding him forcibly of a mother hen clucking over her eggs, "You're in no position to take care of yourself. Not that you couldn't-" she hastily assured at his mutinous look, "But when's the last time you did your own laundry? I'll venture you don't even know how! And let's not even start on cooking-"

"I did all of the cooking and cleaning for the Dursleys for the first eleven years of my life," he countered, quietly but firmly.

"But what about me, mate?!" complained Ron. "I'm supposed to be here by myself?"

That gave Harry pause. He hadn't considered the issue of Ron and Hermione's living arrangements. Of course, they would probably want to move out of the Burrow as well, but he knew that neither one could afford to do so just yet. He really didn't want them living with him, though. It was certainly a dilemma. He opted to neatly side-step the issue, pacifying, "I'd still be around, and it's not like you couldn't visit. I'm sure I'd still be here loads of the time."

"But of course 'e would," added Fleur in her flowery accent. "'E is like family! 'E could come over for dinner, and for 'holidays, and of course 'e would always be welcome wiz Bill and me!"

"Thanks, Fleur," said Harry, encouraged. This wasn't going nearly as badly as he'd thought it might, though Ginny was shooting him an odd look from the other side of the table. "Later," he mouthed silently.

Teddy Lupin chose that moment to start shrieking loudly as his hair cycled smoothly through a spectrum of colors. Snatching the opportunity to end the awkward conversation, Harry jumped up and started gathering dishes. "Here, Mrs. Weasley, let me help you."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She sat atop the mountains of blankets, her back pressed into the corner of the room and knees pulled up to her chest. Hunched over with a curtain of red hair framing her face, she kept one arm wrapped around her shins to hold a pad of paper firmly against her thighs while the other hand wielded a well-used pencil. Drawing was a hobby Ginny had had for as long as she could remember, though her current sketchbook only dated back a couple of years.

It was a pastime that she preferred to keep private. As a little girl, she had grown up a fighter- with six older brothers, it had been necessary to mask any hint of femininity if she had wanted to be taken at all seriously. The habit of keeping her art discrete had automatically continued, therefore, into her years at Hogwarts, especially as her subjects turned more personal.

Though the sketch was in various shades of graphite gray, there was no mistaking the face that peered out from the page, for Ginny was quite talented. A strong jaw led up to a half-way smirk, then an unmistakable pair of twinkling eyes lay framed by a messy mop of pitch-black hair. The only thing missing was the lightning-shaped scar, and the omission had been intentional. She smiled at her drawing, fondly.

"Hey," said a voice from the doorway.

Ginny nearly leaped in surprise, causing a defensive expression to appear on Harry's visage. "Woah, relax," he assured, holding his hands out, palms up. 

Slipping her sketchbook quickly under a pile of blankets, the redhead smiled reassuringly, her heart still racing. Not only had he startled her, but she didn't want to imagine the mortification of trying to explain why she had a book full of portraits of Harry. Of course, having sported a crush on him for so long and then dating him, her feelings weren't exactly a secret, but she would hate to seem desperate. "Sorry," she calmed him with another smile, "you just startled me."

"Sorry," he said, still clearly a bit confused.

She waved him off, then motioned for him to feel free to sit down. "Not a problem... what's up?"

Harry obeyed, but looked distinctly uncomfortable. For a moment, he studied the room aimlessly while Ginny fidgeted with impatience. Finally, he met her in the eye. "So, the war's over," he ventured at last, a sheepish expression sliding onto his visage.

If the redhead hadn't had a very good idea of where he was going with this, she would have promptly burst out laughing. As it was, she was hard pressed to fight back a smirk. The statement was simply so blunt, so obvious... plus she was nearly giddy, if he was about to ask what she hoped. Over the past month the two of them had grown closer again as if they had never been separated for a year. But she didn't want to discourage him by seeming amused. The male ego was a fragile thing, even when that male had single-handedly defeated the most evil wizard of the century. Offering him a smile, she agreed, "Yeah... it's a relief, huh?"

"Yeah," he echoed, his confidence returning visibly. "Yeah... I mean, we can finally all live our lives without being afraid, you know?"

"Uh huh." Was it truly going to be up to her to lead this conversation? Well, if he needed a push, so be it. "So your own place, huh? And Auror training?"

"Yeah!" That made three. Ginny could nearly see the gears turning in his head as he worked out the courage and the phrasing to say what he wanted. "Pretty much perfect, really. Except, I mean... " He appeared to take a deep breath and then, to his credit, asked surprisingly calmly, "I was wondering if you'd like to give us another shot."

"You and me? Another shot?" she teased. "With no megalomaniac in the way this time?"

It took him barely an instant to catch on to the fact that her comment was in jest, to her great relief. Before he could respond, though, she assured with a gentle smile, "Of course I'll go out with you Harry. Start over?"

"Deal."

No more words were spoken for quite a while.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Harry sneaked back into his room, he noticed several things. One was that his hair was even messier than usual- no easy feat in and of itself. The second was his stroke of fortune in not running into any of the Weasleys while he crept around, for there was an assortment of red marks on his neck that he only hoped would come off with a bit of makeup remover. It was certainly a good thing, he supposed, that he and Ron no longer shared a room. Thirdly, he noticed an envelope on his bed. In his excitement over being accepted as an Auror cadet, he had completely forgotten the final missive's existence.

Somewhat absently, he picked it up while running the other hand over his scalp. A distinct heaviness marked the creamy parchment, giving the emerald green calligraphy an official air. Slitting it carefully open with his wand, Harry scanned the contents and allowed his eyebrows to raise slightly. This was certainly an interesting development, and one that he hadn't expected. To turn down the offer, though, would be foolish in addition to insulting.

Scampering down the stairs - and realizing that it was still only mid evening, despite recent activities with reclaimed girlfriend - Harry called loudly, "Hey Mrs. Weasley, can I use the floo for a minute?"

"Of course, dear," came the answer from the kitchen, accompanied by the tell-tale clash of pots and pans. "You know where the powder is."

"Yeah, thanks," replied the Chosen One. He grabbed a handful of the greenish powder off of the mantle, remembered just in the nick of time to rub the lipstick off his neck, and called into the fire, "Headmistress's Office, Hogwarts." Without further ado, he stepped through.

It never ceased to frustrate Harry that, even after seven years of the wizarding world and multiple occasions of proving himself against Lord Voldemort, floo travel still made him slightly ill. As early as second year, he could remember Malfoy stepping gracefully out of fireplaces, somehow without a fleck of dust on him. Harry, though, still fell promptly on his arse and looked as though... well, as though he had just gone flying through a sooty chimney. It must have been something the purebloods all worked on in some special club, he decided resignedly. Catching a startled-looking Scotswoman's expression turn quickly to one of amusement, he climbed to his feet and gave a nod and a sheepish grin. "Hi, Professor," he offered, siphoning soot off of himself quickly before approaching her desk.

McGonagall looked genuinely happy to see him; in fact, Harry did not think he had ever seen her appear so relaxed. Of course, she still bound her slightly-graying hair into a severe bun that pulled at the corners of her face and made her features seem just enough sharper than those of the average person to put a student on edge. Overall, though, her posture spoke of a confidence and ease that could only have been a result of the end of the war. Rising from her seat, she greeted, "Harry, good to see you."

"And you, Professor." It struck him, to his shock, that some part of him had missed his head of house during his adventures of the previous year. She had been a constant in his time in the wizarding world, and not having her around to guide and reprimand him suddenly seemed ridiculously foreign.

"I take it you received my letter?"

"Yeah, that's why I'm here."

"Have a seat, then. Biscuit?"

"I'm good, thanks." Harry took the proffered chair in from of the desk and smiled at the older woman. Though the silence was not uncomfortable, he broke it first. "Strange, being back here," he suggested slightly wryly.

His humor was rewarded with the telltale twitching of lips that he had learned was the stately animagus's version of a smirk. "Undoubtedly you've grown accustomed to quite a bit more freedom," McGonagall quipped back with a hint of dryness. Sitting back, she continued, "But just because you're done with school doesn't mean there aren't quite a few more paths of knowledge to pursue, should you choose."

This was why he was here, and Harry fidgeted slightly. "I'd love to learn to be an animagus, if you're willing to teach me."

"I would not have offered were I not," came the crisp response, before she slipped into what Harry liked to dub "professor mode." "You are aware, though, Potter, that this will not be a game. Learning the transformation is a dangerous process and requires hard work and sometimes years of study. If you're willing to make that commitment..."

"I am," assured the boy quickly. "It would be a great skill to have, especially for Auror training. And..."

"And a chance to follow in your father's footsteps?" she suggested quietly.

"That too."

"Very well then, Potter. I'll see you for your first lesson shortly."

Understanding his dismissal, Harry thanked her again and departed. He had apartment-hunting to do.

---------------------------------------------------------

Ta da!


End file.
